


So It's gonna be Forever (or it's gonna go down in flames)

by heartshapedcandy



Series: Clarke and Lexa College AU [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartshapedcandy/pseuds/heartshapedcandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Clarke and Lexa fight (and one time they don’t)</p>
<p>or </p>
<p>a sequel to the college AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	So It's gonna be Forever (or it's gonna go down in flames)

**Author's Note:**

> A Sequel to "When I Picture You (i think of your smile)"

1. 

Clarke would think that Lexa was asleep if it wasn’t for her hand tracing absentminded patterns against Clarke’s lower back.  Clarke nuzzles into Lexa further, her head resting on Lexa’s chest and her leg thrown across her hip.  She presses a kiss against Lexa’s collarbone and then the underside of her chin.  Lexa hums lowly and shifts so she can catch Clarke’s mouth with her own. 

 

The sheet slips further down their bodies where they lie curled together in Lexa’s bed.  Clarke thumbs over Lexa’s hipbones as Lexa chases her mouth with her own. 

 

Clarke pulls back, just slightly, and leans her forehead against Lexa’s, “So this is okay?” she asks, voice more unsure than she would like.  “I mean I know this all happened really fast but I just—“

 

Lexa cuts her off with a kiss, nodding her head as she bites down gently on Clarke’s bottom lip.  “This is definitely okay,” she says before soothing her tongue over the bite. 

 

Clarke pulls back again, “because I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do, obviously.”

 

Lexa looks at her, rolling her eyes at Clarke’s babbling, “I said it was okay.” 

 

Clarke pulls back further, shifting off Lexa and onto the mattress, “You really don’t talk much, do you?” she asks a little joking but a little annoyed.  She crosses her arms over her bare chest, feeling overly exposed for the first time. 

 

Lexa leans back as well, not bothering to cover her breasts, just clenching her jaw visibly as she looks at Clarke.  “There is a time for talking and there are times where it is best to stay silent.” 

 

Clarke raises an eyebrow and scoffs, well on her way to enraged now.  “So are you saying I talk too much? I’m sorry I’m not content to just sit back and watch things like a broody grump.” Clarke swings her legs over the side of the bed and searches for her underwear, pulling them up her legs when she finds them.  She feels flushed and embarrassed under Lexa’s gaze and starts to panic when she can’t find her jeans. 

 

And then warm arms are stilling her movements, wrapping around her waist and pulling her against her chest.  Lexa hooks her chin on Clarke’s shoulder and strokes at the skin above Clarke’s bellybutton with her fingers.  Her grip is loose, and Clarke knows she could easily pull away, but finds herself softening against Lexa’s expanse of warm, soft skin. 

 

“I don’t think you talk too much,” Lexa says, and her voice is quiet and Clarke can feel her swallow against her shoulder.  “I just wanted to keep kissing you,” she admits in a whisper, “I like the way you talk.” Clarke turns in her arms so she can see into Lexa’s blue, dark eyes and waits as Lexa continues.  “It’s one of my favorite things about you,” she avoids eye contact here and studies the floor fixedly, “you are so strong when you speak.  You get all worked up,” she smiles at the floor and adds “it’s cute.” 

 

Clarke smiles at the way that Lexa still can’t seem to make eye contact, embarrassed by her admission.  She kisses the perfect arch of Lexa’s top lip and cups her cheek, memorizing the sharp curve of her cheekbones with her fingers. 

 

“You are so much more of a sap then everybody else thinks,” she tells Lexa as she smiles against her mouth.  Lexa smiles back and backs them up a few steps, pulling Clarke back down on the bed on top of her. 

 

“You have no proof of this, Clarke,” she says and then they are kissing again and Clarke is content not talking. 

 

2.

 

Clarke is pretty sure she just fucked up, and she can’t even blame Raven.  This time it is 100% on her. 

* * *

 

 

Lexa has been incredibly distant lately.  Clarke understands the demands of schoolwork, she really does, but all the end of semester exams and papers in the world doesn’t really excuse Lexa just ignoring her. 

 

And there’s the other problem:  Clarke has no idea how Lexa sees her.  She doesn’t know if the fact that they sleep together or that Lexa walks her to and from lit class makes them girlfriends or dating or at least something more than friends. 

 

Lexa kisses her against the inside of her dorm room door, she helps her study until two in the morning, and braids Clarke’s hair absently while they watch TV.  But Clarke doesn’t really know what any of that means, and she is far to scared to ask. 

 

She is scared that Lexa will level that cold glare at her or laugh in her face.  She is scared that the one person who makes her stomach un-knot and breathing ease, will reject her. 

 

So Clarke lets things be. 

* * *

 

And thus the fucking up. 

 

Lexa had been holed up in her dorm writing her final paper for a Political Theories class and Raven was having new drama with Finn.  So Clarke accepted Bellamy’s invitation to another of his frat’s parties. 

 

“But it’s finals week?” she had said to him at their table in the dining hall, scrunching her face at him as he grinned.

 

“That’s the point,” he answered, reaching across the table to nab one of her french fries, “people need to let off steam.”

 

She had shaken her head and snatched her fry back from his hands, but agreed to go anyway. 

 

And here she is, leaning back into the tall warmth of him, he has an arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady and is leaning down to talk into her ear so she can hear him.

 

“Do you maybe want to stop, Clarke? I don’t think another beer after all those shots is a good idea…”

 

She grumbles and shoves away from his chest, ready to go off on him.  Drinking always makes her angry, it’s like all the toxic things she wants to say finally make it out of her mouth.  Her heart is beating just a little bit too fast, and the ceiling spins above her.  She can make out Bellamy’s face, worried and open, as he reaches to take her beer. 

 

She thinks she should do something disastrous, like punch him in the face or start a fire.  She is casting her eyes about for some sort of incendiary device when she hears someone call out “Clarke?”

 

She recognizes the voice immediately and it makes all of her anger evaporate.  She happily releases her beer into Bellamy’s hand and spins to find the source.  Clarke can see her coming toward her, all lean muscle and long legs.  Her curly hair is held back in a blue clip and she is wearing smoky eyeliner that makes Clarke almost topple over. 

 

Clarke struggles to maintain her footing and realizes that her struggle to stay standing might have more to do with how much she has had to drink and less to do with Lexa’s eyeliner.  Lexa is only a few feet from her now, and Clarke’s heart begins beating to the sound of Lexa’s name. 

 

Lexa isn’t looking at her anymore and Clarke almost whines in annoyance because she wants her to.  She wants Lexa’s eyes to consume her until there is nothing left but her unsteadily beating heart. 

 

“What did you do to her?” Lexa is asking Bellamy, sharp and angry, her voice makes him step back as she bares down on him with ferocity and a snarled mouth. 

 

“Nothing!” Bellamy answers, holding his hands up in front of his chest, “she drank what she wanted.  I’m not going to try to stop her.” Lexa takes another step forward, her jaw set and her fist clenched. 

 

Bellamy holds out a consoling hand, “I promise I was looking out for her, I didn’t drink so I could keep an eye on her.” Clarke sees him look at her and she grins lazy and big, how can anything be wrong when Lexa is here?

 

“She has been really upset,” he says, looking at Lexa again, “I thought it would be good if she got to have a night for herself for a change.”

 

Lexa’s snarl drops and she furrows her brow, “Upset?”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, relaxing now that Lexa has stopped advancing, “I don’t know what’s been wrong, she has just seemed really lost.” 

 

Clarke watches the conversation as though it is about someone else, solely focused on the way that Lexa’s shirt plunges at the collar and the fit of her jeans. 

 

Lexa shakes her head at Bellamy but offers him a stiff smile, “I’ll take her home, I haven’t had anything to drink yet,” she says and Bellamy nods.  He ruffles Clarke’s hair as he walks away and she pokes his cheek making him laugh.

 

As soon as he turns the corner Clarke remembers the reason for the swoopy feeling in her stomach and turns to face Lexa. 

 

She consciously knows that she will be standing there, but the sight of her still hits her hard, she nearly falls back at the way Lexa’s lips curl into a smile when their eyes meet. 

 

Clarke launches herself at Lexa, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders and burying her head into the soft skin of Lexa’s neck.  She can feel the vibrations through her cheek when Lexa laughs. 

 

“This feels familiar,” Lexa says as she wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist.  Clarke looks up questioningly, most of her concentration focused on the fact that Lexa’s hand is on bare skin where her shirt has ridden up. 

 

“Last time we were at one of these parties the roles were a little bit reversed,” she looks down at Clarke’s still confused face and laughs.  “Do you remember that, sweetie?” 

 

Clarke buries her face back in Lexa’s neck and hears Lexa laugh out an “I guess not.”

 

Lexa smells so _good._ Like unfairly amazing, and Clarke really wants to get closer to the smell, she wants to understand everything that makes Lexa the way she is.  She can’t quite figure out exactly what it is that Lexa smells like and she is so _warm._ Clarke sticks out her tongue and laps it up the length of Lexa’s neck. 

 

Lexa lets out this high pitched squeak and Clarke feels this rush of satisfaction at the noise.  She licks across her neck again, then presses her lips to the skin and sucks a kiss against Lexa’s pulse point. 

 

“Okay,” Lexa says, her voice wavering and shaky, “not here, Clarke.” 

 

Clarke bites down lightly where Lexa’s neck meets her shoulder and Lexa is pushing her away and holding her at arms length.  “Clarke,” she says, tucking a strand of hair out of Clarke’s eyes, “are you hearing me? Not here, sweetie.”

 

“Then upstairs,” Clarke hushes and she is nearly floored by her own brilliance.  _Upstairs._ That is genius.  She and Lexa will be alone and there are beds and Lexa will probably let her take off her clothes and she is mentally high fiving herself so hard. 

 

But Lexa is shaking her head and Clarke is so confused because she knows for a fact that she just had the best idea known to mankind.  Lexa smooths Clarke’s hair behind her ear and taps her chin so she looks at her, “I want to take you back to your room, Clarke.  Okay?”

 

“But it’s so far,” she whines and her lip is pouting, and she wants to be touching Lexa now. 

 

Lexa sighs and studies her before her eyes light up.  “How about I cut you a deal, Clarke?” she asks, “How about if you come back to my room with me—” she lowers her voice and moves a little closer to Clarke’s face, “then I’ll let you kiss me.”

 

Clarke narrows her eyes at Lexa and considers, “On the mouth?” she asks cautiously. 

 

“Yeah,” Lexa says nodding, “right on the mouth.”

 

Clarke narrows her eyes even further.

 

Lexa raise an eyebrow and tilts Clarke’s chin to get her attention, “we can even hold hands,” she says. 

 

Clarke breaks out into a grin, “Deal!” she shouts, just a little too loud, and she claps a hand over her mouth. She continues quieter, “you are such a good bargainer.”

 

Lexa is laughing hard and Clarke can’t quite figure out why.  Before she can ask, Lexa is outstretching her hand and Clarke grabs it eagerly. 

 

* * *

 

 

 Clarke is pretty sure they have been walking forever.  Lexa keeps whispering “just a little bit longer,” but Clarke is nearly sure she is lying.  Clarke stops walking and looks down at her shoes.  Lexa tugs at her arm insistently, “Clarke, sweetie, we are just about at your dorm building, see?”

 

Clarke lets out a heavy breath and groans noisily.  Lexa is laughing again, which she keeps doing for no reason that Clarke can see, and she pulls Clarke against her.  “I’ll take it from here,” Lexa says with a sigh and then she is scooping Clarke off her feet.  Lexa holds her cradled to her chest, one arm tucked under her knees and the other under her back.    Clarke turns her head back into the warmth of Lexa’s neck and remembers with a jolt of heat what she had been doing earlier. 

 

She feels them go inside a building, but is too busy sucking kisses onto Lexa’s neck to pay attention.  Lexa’s breathing is getting faster and Clarke wonders if it is from her weight. 

 

But then Lexa is groaning her name and she thinks it might be the best thing she has ever heard.  She scrapes her teeth across the hinge of Lexa’s jaw and hears a door open.  And then she is being dropped on a bed and Lexa is scrambling away from her until she hits the opposite wall, breathing hard, eyes dark and wild. 

 

“Lexa,” Clarke whines, closing her eyes in frustration, “you promised me hand holding _and_ a kiss and you haven’t done your part.”  When she opens her eyes Lexa is walking toward her, almost predatory in her stride.  Clarke meeps in excitement and closes her eyes in anticipation.  She feels Lexa’s breath before the touch of her mouth, and she is being awarded a kiss that is soft and soothing and lovely.  Clarke presses in harder and fits her tongue into Lexa’s mouth as she smoothly undoes the button on Lexa’s jeans. 

 

She is sliding her hand inside Lexa’s underwear and running her fingers through her before Lexa has time to break the kiss.  “You are so wet,” Clarke gasps against Lexa’s mouth before she feels her hand being pulled out of Lexa’s pants and Lexa steps away from her again. 

 

Clarke opens her eyes to see Lexa shaking her head, and rebuttoning her jeans.  Clarke doesn’t have time to complain before Lexa holds up a finger to cut her off, “I want to Clarke, obviously I do.  But I think it should wait until you are less incredibly drunk.”  She walks back to where Clarke sits pouting and touches her face gently.  “Cuddling isn’t off the table, though?”

 

Clarke nods and tries to ignore the heavy ache between her legs, she can see Lexa taking calming breaths as well.  Clarke lies down facing the wall and feels Lexa curl around her back, a hand on her stomach and legs fitted between her own.  Lexa presses a consoling kiss against the back of her neck. 

 

Clarke can feel herself beginning to drift off, Lexa’s sheets smell like her and the alcohol is already making her head fuzzy. 

 

She has just begun to doze off when she remembers. 

 

It makes her shoot up, startling Lexa and almost clipping her chin with her head when she sits up.  Lexa starts to get up when Clarke rolls on top of her and pins her with her hips.  She grabs Lexa’s hands when they begin to settle on her thighs, and pins them above her head.  She can see Lexa’s chest rapidly rising and falling and almost regrets waking her up so suddenly.  Almost. 

 

Clarke leans down to press her face close to Lexa’s and hisses “I just remembered something.” 

 

Lexa looks entirely bemused and this might be the most expressive Clarke has ever seen Lexa sober, “What?” she asks slightly panicky, “What’s wrong?” 

 

“I’m mad at you,” Clarke answers, grinding her weight down harder on Lexa. 

 

“Mad at me? Why?”

 

Clarke lets go of Lexa’s hands so she can poke at Lexa’s forehead, “Because you are so confusing.”

 

Lexa is entirely lost and Clarke can feel all her anger and toxicity creeping back, “you never talk!” she says, louder than she means to, “and you hide away to do work and I don’t even know if you like me!”

 

The first two things made Lexa blanch visibly, and if Clarke was more aware she would have noticed, but the third just makes her laugh.

 

“Clarke, of course I like you.  I like you a lot.”

 

Clarke throws her arms in the air, “Then are we dating?”

 

Lexa’s face clears, “Is this what this about? You want to know if we are dating?”

 

Clarke nods, rapidly tapping her hands on Lexa’s stomach nervously.  Lexa pushes herself up onto her forearms, her bottom half still pinned, and looks into Clarke’s eyes.  “I didn’t realize you were confused,” she says sincerely, “I thought we were, I guess.  I mean, I’m not hooking up with anyone else.  You’re my best friend, and I buy you coffee for Christ’s sake.”

 

Clarke smiles, “I’m your best friend?”

 

Lexa groans, “That’s the part you’re going to focus on?”

 

“Wait, so I’m your best friend _and_ your girlfriend?”

 

Lexa shrugs and nods. 

 

“You probably should widen your social pool,” Clarke says seriously. 

 

“Hey now!”  Lexa shouts, and she is flipping them with ease, which makes Clarke wonder why she let her pin her for so long, “I have an extremely active social life.” 

 

And Clarke is laughing underneath her, ankles locked behind Lexa’s hips, and she figures she could have fucked up worse tonight, all things considered. 

 

3.

 

 Clarke wakes up to a pounding headache and Lexa’s feet in her face. 

 

She isn’t really sure the proper way to react so she mostly just groans, blinking her eyes open wider to take in her surroundings.  She is wrapped tightly in Lexa’s sheets, the comforter kicked off by her feet, and she has a hand loosely gripping Lexa’s ankle. 

 

Lexa blinks slowly at her from where she sits in her rolly chair, legs kicked up on the bed near Clarke’s head, textbook propped open on her lap.  Clarke sits up slowly, releasing Lexa’s ankle and settling herself cross legged on top of the tangled sheets.  She props her elbow on her knee, chin resting in the palm of her hand as she surveys the girl in front of her.  

 

Lexa smiles that half smile, seemingly back to being reserved after the night before.  “How are you feeling?” she asks as she turns a page in her textbook. 

 

“Fine,” Clarke answers. 

 

“Good,” Lexa says, looking up fully.  She actually allows herself a full smile and nudges Clarke’s knee with her foot, “I expected you would be pretty out of it.” 

 

Clarke grins at her, quirking an eyebrow mockingly. 

 

“What?” Lexa asks, subconsciously touching her own face as though she is checking that everything is still there, “Why are you smiling?”

 

“Because _someone,_ ” Clarke rocks forward and grins harder at this, “called me ‘sweetie’ not once, but _three_ times last night.”

 

Lexa’s eyes widen and she covers her face with one hand, the other still clutching desperately to her textbook.  “That’s what you choose to remember?” she groans out, “not the fact that we are dating or that you get really horny when you are drunk?”

 

Clarke laughs and reaches out to grab Lexa’s foot playfully, “I mean, I’m all for sweet talk, but three pet names in one night? I’m surprised you didn’t combust.”

 

Lexa just looks at her, and Clarke thinks she is probably hiding a smile somewhere behind that flat gaze.  Instead of denying it or rolling her eyes, Lexa leans forward and gifts Clarke with a sloppy kiss that catches her mostly on the chin.  She pulls back and gestures to the end table. 

 

“I got you a coffee.  Drink it before it gets cold.” 

 

And Clarke is leaning forward to kiss her back, equally sloppy and wet, and every part of her aches in the best way. 

 

* * *

 

 

 Clarke walks out of her Organic Chemistry class already tensed in anticipation of the cold.  She tries to curl her hands as far up into her sleeves as possible, her fingers already throbbing from the chill. 

 

“You look cozy,” she hears a voice say sarcastically, and looks over to see Lexa leaning one shoulder against the wall of the science building.  Clarke wants to say something snappy back but the combination of her shivering and the sight of Lexa has left her breathless. 

 

Clarke moves to get out of the rush of students pouring from the doors and stumbles into Lexa’s arms.  She is steadied by hands on her forearms and greeted with a kiss on her cheek.  Lexa doesn’t pull away directly after and they are left lingering, faces close together, for longer than they should. 

 

“Hi,” Lexa hushes. 

 

“Hey,” Clarke says back, and then glances back at the building.  “This is a surprise,” she looks back at Lexa, “a nice one, of course.”

 

Lexa shrugs, “I was on my way back from my international relations class and remembered you were probably getting out at the same time and—” she stops and surveys Clarke’s wind bitten cheeks and hunched shoulder, “lets get back to the dorms before you freeze, Clarke.”

 

They begin to move back toward their dorm, shoulders knocking, and Lexa takes off her gloves and silently hands them to Clarke. 

 

Clarke looks at her, always a little shocked by Lexa’s small gestures, “But you’ll freeze,” she protests. 

 

Lexa shrugs, looking straight ahead.  “I consider myself made of tougher stuff than you.”

 

Clarke wrinkles her nose and laces her now gloved hand with Lexa’s bare one, “I’ll keep you warm anyway.”

 

* * *

 

 

 It was honestly only a matter of time until someone walked in on them. 

 

Lexa had this habit, when they were alone, of getting as close to Clarke as possible.  They could be doing something completely innocuous, like studying or reading, and Lexa would still make sure that at least some part of them was touching. 

 

In this particular instance, Lexa was cramming for a test, her face clenched in concentration as she flipped through a formidable stack of index cards she had made the night before.  But as she studied, she was pressed up against Clarke, one leg tucked under Clarke’s and their shoulders touching.  The thing that baffled Clarke was that Lexa was content with just that.  As long as she was close to Clarke, she was happy to simply sit and do nothing more. 

 

But Clarke can’t even concentrate.  It’s the way Lexa smells, she decides, and the fact that Lexa’s hair is still damp from her shower.  It’s the way Lexa mouths the words of a card when she can’t remember it and her leg as it presses warmly against Clarke’s own. 

 

Clarke makes her move all in a flurry, figuring if she can get on the offensive fast enough, then Lexa won’t have time to chastise her.  She flips on top of Lexa, shoving her down by her shoulders, thighs bracketing her hips. 

 

Lexa opens her mouth to protest but her words trail off in a soft moan as Clarke pushes her hand up Lexa’s shirt and massages her with her hand.  She runs a thumb over Lexa’s nipple as she lowers her mouth to Lexa’s.  Lexa’s mouth is open in surprise and Clarke laps into it eagerly, running her tongue over Lexa’s teeth before nudging harder against her. 

 

Lexa is all desperate whines and arching back as she bucks under Clarke’s touch.  Her hands scramble down Clarke’s back before settling on Clarke’s ass, pulling her more firmly against her.  Their teeth collide uncomfortably when Clarke jars forward in surprise, but their mouths soon find a steady rhythm of pressing tongues and soothing lips as Clarke’s thigh fits between Lexa’s legs, urging her to rock against her. 

 

Clarke has just remembered her hand still up Lexa’s shirt, and is about to lower her mouth to join it, when the door opens.  The noise takes a while to register, and when it does she stalls instantly.   Lexa is still moaning softly, hips canting up desperately. 

 

“Clarke,” she whines, “Clarke why did you—” She catches sight of Clarke’s turned head and follows her gaze to the figure standing in the doorway. 

 

“Oh shit,” she says scrambling to pull her shirt down.  Clarke removes her hand, but doesn’t bother to move from straddling Lexa once she sees who it is. 

 

Raven sticks her hands in the air and looks at them with an expression of complete disbelief.  “I am so deeply offended right now, you have no idea.” 

 

Clarke glances down and almost wants to laugh at Lexa’s stricken expression.

 

“Why the _fuck_ ,” Raven starts stepping further into the room, “did you not tell me you guys were at this point?” She looks at Clarke, almost impressed, as she continues, “I thought you two were still at the awkward flirty stage.” She looks back to survey them, nodding to herself, “Also, Clarke is a top? Who knew?”

 

Clarke is about to tell her to knock it off and leave, to save Lexa from her mounting embarrassment that is evident on her face, but instead Raven is turning to someone outside the door and gesturing at the two of them.

 

“O, did you know about this?”

 

Octavia walks into the room and sees Clarke still straddling Lexa on her bed. She laughs and turns to Raven.  “You didn’t know they were fucking?”

 

Raven shakes her head. 

 

Octavia shrugs and wiggles her fingers at Lexa, “I thought it was pretty obvious.”  She turns to dump a packet of popcorn and a handful of DVDs on Raven’s bed, “I assume this means Lexa’s staying for movie night?”

 

Clarke looks down at Lexa who has assumed her unreadable expression, although it is almost rendered null by the red flush that has spread across her face and neck.  Clarke laughs and leans down to kiss her quickly.  “Yeah,” she says “I think she is.” 

 

* * *

 

 

 Things are by no means perfect. 

 

They get into little fights about stupid things that leave them angry and breathless and panting.  They often end when Clarke presses Lexa up against a wall or a door or a desk and kisses her until they forget what they were arguing about anyway. 

 

When Lexa coming to movie night becomes a regular thing, furious debates are often raged over movie choice.  Surprisingly, Lexa tends to side with Octavia’s option of sappy dramas or romantic comedies, with Raven and Clarke heading up the movement for indie films or B-list action movies.

 

On the night of “The Battle of _Fast and Furious 5_ and _27 Dresses_ ,” Raven stops mid rant about the merit of Jordana Brewster’s eyebrows and turns to Lexa. 

 

“I didn’t really peg you for a romance movie kind of girl, Lex,” she says leaning her elbows on Octavia’s legs that are swung up on her lap, even through the furious argument. 

 

Lexa shrugs and leans back further into the couch cushions, “If I don’t watch them,” she says, making even eye contact with Raven, “then how will I know how to woo Clarke?”

 

Raven’s mouth gapes a little and Octavia raises an eyebrow and stares at Lexa, hard.  There is complete silence until Lexa begins to laugh.  Octavia bursts out laughing as well and leans over to punch at Lexa’s shoulder, “Oh my god,” she gasps, “I thought you were serious.” 

 

Clarke watches Lexa and her friends and smiles at how relaxed she looks.  She presses a kiss to Lexa’s cheek that has her stopping mid-laugh and turning to her, expression soft. 

 

Clarke looks at Raven, her hand running through Lexa’s hair absently, “We can watch _27 dresses_ ,” she says, “Let’s give them this one.”  Lexa gives Clarke her favorite smile and Clarke tugs on one of her curls, “I’m not doing this for you,” she says, “I’m doing this for Katherine Heigl.”

 

 4.  

 

Clarke lies back on Octavia’s bed and stares at her ceiling.  Octavia lies next to her, head pillowed on her arm as she turns to look at Clarke. 

 

“You should just talk to her, Clarke.  Moping in here isn’t doing either of you good.”

 

Clarke avoids Octavia’s eyes and continues to study a crack that runs through the ceiling’s plaster. 

 

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Clarke says, and she knows she sounds whiny, but she can’t seem talk any other way around the lump in her throat. 

 

“You don’t know that,” Octavia says, “Lexa always does this, right? I don’t know why you are letting it get to you so much this time.”

 

Clarke sits up suddenly and glares down at Octavia, “Because she shouldn’t do this at all.  She can’t just hole herself away whenever she gets stressed or ignore me when it’s convenient.”

 

“Lexa is so crazy about you,” Octavia says, reaching out to put her hand on Clarke’s arm, “I don’t think she is trying to hurt you.”

 

“Yeah? Well it is hurting me,” Clarke says harshly, “Believe it or not, ignoring someone’s texts for three days when they live _next door to you_  is a shitty thing to do.” 

 

Octavia withdraws her hand and sighs, “then talk to her, it doesn’t sound like you are going to be happy with this any other way.”

 

Clarke nods and gets up, storming toward the door.  “But I don’t think a confrontation is going to make you happy either,” Octavia yells after her, but the door is already slamming shut. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa is sitting at her desk, she is wearing sweat pants and a thin tank top, which is the most relaxed clothes that Clarke has never seen Lexa wear during the day.  She turns as Clarke enters and her face, though already not smiling, seems to fall a little more.

 

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, voice tired and rough. “I’m not really feeling hanging out right now.” 

 

Clarke takes her in, the dark circles under her eyes and the way her shoulders slump.  She steps closer and cups Lexa’ chin in her hand, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Lexa turns her head out of Clarke’s hand and faces her desk, “No.  I have a lot of work to do, so.”

 

Clarke can feel her anger, simmering lightly under her skin, come to the surface.  She grabs Lexa’s arm and turns her back to face her, “What’s your problem?”

 

Lexa looks up at her startled and wide eyed, “I just have a lot of work to do,” she says looking down, “I need to put in more time.” 

 

Clarke shakes her head angrily, “You study constantly,” she says, “I think the last thing you need is more schoolwork.”

 

Lexa mumbles something under her breath. 

 

“What?” Clarke snaps. 

 

Lexa takes a deep breath and looks up, “I got a ‘B’,” she repeats, “In political theory, I got a ‘B.’”

 

“What?” Clarke says again, more confused now and voice tight, “You’re ignoring me because you got a ‘B’?”

 

Lexa shakes her head, “No,” she says, “I’m not ignoring you, I just have to do better, work harder.”

 

“Who cares about a ‘B’? That’s a good grade, I don’t know what your deal is.”

 

 

“I have to work harder,” Lexa repeats, “A ‘B’ isn’t good enough.  Not for my family, I have to be the best.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Clarke says, “you’re amazing.” Her words are delivered more harshly than intended, but Lexa is still shaking her head. 

 

“Not everyone comes from perfect little families like you, Clarke.”

 

The words hit Clarke harder than she should, and she remembers, all at once, everything that happened last summer with her mom and her dad. 

 

“I don’t have a perfect family,” she hisses, leaning forward now, overly aggressive.  And Lexa is still annoyingly unresponsive, face set and eyes emotionless. “You might know that if you ever cared enough to fucking ask.”

 

“It’s not my place,” Lexa says, looking down, “I didn’t think it was important.”

 

“How is getting to know each other not important?” Clarke says, she is yelling now, shaky and tight from her anger, and this whole fight is making her feel sick.  Her head is swimming and she doesn’t know why she can’t stop the words coming from her mouth. 

 

“I know you, Clarke,” Lexa says.  Her voice is tight with anger and her own annoyance is starting to show.  “I know you are a sensitive little girl, who will continue to study something that she hates just to earn approval from her parents that already love her.”

 

Clarke recoils from her but has enough venom left to ask “How is that any different from what you are doing? Ignoring someone who, deny it all you want, you like, just to study harder because you want your parents to think you are perfect.”  

 

“The difference is,” Lexa says, “that my parents don’t love me.” 

 

The room is silent and still.  Clarke wants to step closer to Lexa, to touch her, to do anything, but Lexa is already turning away. 

 

“Just get out,” she says, she is looking down at her textbook again and her voice is even.  “The sound of you making judgments about me is tiresome.” 

* * *

 

 Clarke hasn’t moved from her spot on her room’s floor in thirty minutes.  She keeps running the conversation over and over in her head and getting angrier and angrier. 

 

She hates that she can’t help Lexa, because she would never let her.  She hates that _she_ is left feeling guilty even though Lexa is the one who is ignoring her.  And she hates that everything Lexa said was true. 

 

The door of her room opens and she looks up quickly to see Raven in the doorway.  Her eyes are red and her arms hang limply by her side.  She takes in Clarke slowly, who realizes she probably looks very similar.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, and Clarke gets up to stand in front of her.

 

“Lexa and I are fighting,” she says, “and it’s pretty bad this time.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Raven starts, voice flat and face empty, “I broke up with Finn.” 

 

“Fuck Finn,” Clarke says, reaching out a hand to touch Raven’s cheek lightly. 

 

“Fuck Finn,” Raven repeats, and she is leaning into Clarke’s touch, her eyes settling on Clarke’s mouth.  She starts to lean in, slowly like she is giving Clarke a chance to pull away. 

 

Clarke starts to.  “Raven,” she says, “you’re in a really bad place right now and Lexa—”

 

“Lexa’s a bitch,” Raven says and then she’s leaning in again. 

 

They kiss and it feels angry and hot, Raven biting at her lip before grabbing roughly at her hips.  Clarke kisses back, the knot in her stomach tightening, but it feels good to feel something, and she is sucking on Raven’s tongue and winding her hands roughly in Raven’s ponytail. 

 

Raven gasps against her mouth and pulls away.  There is a beat of silence where they just look at each other, and then Clarke is shaking her head and wrapping her arms around Raven’s shoulders. 

 

Raven starts to cry, broken and harsh, tucking her head in Clarke’s neck.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says again and again against Clarke’s shoulder.

 

“It’s okay,” Clarke hushes, smoothing her hair.  “It’s going to be ok.”

 

5\.  

 Clarke wakes up to the feeling of a warmth settling against her back.  She recognizes Lexa’s smell and closes her eyes tighter when she feels lips press against the back of her neck. 

 

“Clarke,” Lexa says, her hand stroking over Clarke’s stomach, “I’m sorry things escalated the way they did last night.” She keeps petting Clarke’s skin and wiggles closer, “you feel nice,” she whispers. 

 

Clarke can feel her chest clench with guilt and turns in Lexa’s arms.  Lexa’s eyes are so close, and she is smiling this little apologetic smile that is warm and lovely.  She takes in Clarke’s red-rimmed eyes and her mouth turns down at the corners, “I didn’t realize I upset you so much, sweetie,” she says and she nudges their noses together. 

 

“I kissed Raven,” Clarke says all in a rush, her words jumbled and her eyes blinking just a little too rapidly. 

 

Lexa pulls back, her hands still from where they had been circling on Clarke’s back, “What?” she says. 

 

“It was after we fought,” Clarke explains, slightly panicky.

 

Lexa pulls back quickly and moves out from under the covers, stumbling as her feet hit the floor. 

 

“It didn’t mean anything,” she says.  Her chest is collapsing on itself and she thinks she might be about to hyperventilate because she has never seen this expression of hurt on Lexa’s face. 

 

“She broke up with Finn, she was upset…”

 

Lexa cuts her off with a glare.  “You are going to have to realize eventually, that there are other ways to solve your problems, Clarke, besides using your mouth.”  Clarke starts to move toward her, but Lexa backs away.  “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

 

“You do,” Clarke says, her voice high and begging, “I was just confused.”

 

Lexa turns away and starts for the door, “You need to figure out what you want,” she says, “or else that’s all you’re ever going to be.”  And then she is shouldering her way out the door, head high and hands clenched. 

 

6\.   

 

It’s been two weeks since they fought. 

 

After the fight, Clarke didn’t cry until she left her Organic Chemistry class and Lexa wasn’t leaning by door. 

 

And when she broke, Raven was there to hold her hand and Octavia brought her powdered donuts that just made her cry harder. 

 

“I need to change some things,” Clarke had told them through her tears. 

 

Raven wiped a tear off her cheek and Octavia wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “We’ll help,” Octavia said looking to Raven for confirmation, “whatever you need, we’ll be here.” 

 

It’s been two weeks and now Clarke is standing outside her door. 

 

She knocks, and it feels unfamiliar to do so.  She hears movement inside and the sliding of a chair, and then Lexa is opening the door. 

 

Clarke sees her and just starts crying and she has never felt this weak.  Lexa stands back to let her in, and they stand in the center of the room, awkward and unmoving. 

 

Clarke lets out a wet sigh and looks at Lexa.  “I changed majors,” she says.  And Lexa’s face flickers momentarily.  Clarke wipes a hand over her eyes, “I thought about what you said, about how immature it was to be putting myself through something I hated for someone else.” Lexa looks up at her, deep and silent, “So I’m majoring in visual art now.”

 

“How does it feel?” Lexa asks, uncrossing her arms, head tilting to the side imperceptibly.

 

Clarke manages a genuine smile, “It feels good.  You were right, I needed to figure out what I want, and that is one thing.  But there’s something else.”  And she is moving a bit closer now, and Lexa isn’t turning away. 

 

“What?” Lexa asks, voice a new kind of quiet. 

 

“You,” Clarke says, and she so badly wants to reach out to touch Lexa, but she stays back.  

 

“I’ve been thinking, too,” Lexa says.  “And it is wrong of me to pull away from you so much.” 

 

Clarke shakes her head, still holding back from touching her, “I was wrong to pry—”

 

Lexa cuts her off.  “I want to tell you everything about me, I just don’t know how.  But what I realized is,” she huffs out a sigh, “I would rather be the person you make me want to be than the person my parents want me to be. I don’t owe them anything. Not anymore.” 

 

Lexa presses forward, and Clarke closes her eyes, parting her lips.  The kiss is soft and hesitant, everything their first kiss wasn’t.  Lexa kisses the corner of her mouth and the curve of her top lip.  She cradles her head in gentle hands, like she might break. 

 

“I love the way you make me feel,” she says, and Clarke nods breathlessly against her.  “I missed you,” Lexa says. 

 

Clarke nods _yes_ because she missed her too and then keeps nodding _yes yes yes_ because Lexa is kissing her again. 


End file.
